


The Real Final Problem

by Your_Worst_Nightmare



Series: The Great Game [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Rewrite, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, References to Drugs, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Showers, Smut, Tea, Underlying Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sherlock has a dilemna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Worst_Nightmare/pseuds/Your_Worst_Nightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is obsessed with Sherlock Holmes. After their first meeting at the pool, Jim feels the urge to see him again, but dramatic is the only way he knows how. He keeps telling Sherlock about their 'final problem' but it's only when Sherlock realises what the final problem really is, do things get really complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> There is a massive amount of underlying sexual tension between Sherlock and Moriarty throughout the entire series. There are so many scenes where you can feel it between them, so I thought I'd rewrite a few major scenes with the sexual subtext actually put in. But I kind of went a bit offtrack and now it's turned rather naughty ;)
> 
> Adding another chapter each week hopefully!
> 
> Oh and if you are just looking for smut, go to chapter 3 ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would put in some background bits too :P

He sat watching, a smirk draped across his face. The other man paced, almost frantically back and forth across the room, hands on his head and closing his eyes in an attempt to mask his frustration. Finally one of them broke the silence.

“You going to stop pacing anytime soon Sebby? You’re making me dizzy darling,” he said with a wink, obviously enjoying the man’s predicament. Sebastian stopped and turned to face Jim Moriarty, his hands still on his head. He stared at him incredulously for a moment before letting them fall to his side and shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

“How are you finding this funny? They almost killed you, tortured you for months, and yet you’re just sitting there, like nothing’s wrong!” he cried furiously at the criminal, returning to his pacing whilst covering his eyes with his hands.

“But nothing is wrong Sebastian. I am fine. Look at me,” Moriarty demanded, beginning to get irritated at his companion’s emotions. Sebastian stopped again and looked at Jim’s battered face and cut hands. He shook his head in disbelief.

“You really are insane aren’t you?”

“It really surprises me how slow people are these days. Even you Seb! Of course I am, do you think anyone could just do what I do?!” Moriarty growled at him. Sebastian once again covered his eyes with his hands, trying to rid himself of the image of Jim’s bruised face. He heard the criminal shift, but before he could remove his hand he felt Jim’s breath on the back of his neck, and his hands curling round his body. Sebastian relaxed into the embrace, his anger evaporating at Moriarty’s touch. He sighed heavily and leaned his head back onto the criminal’s shoulder.

“You know why I had to do it,” he breathed quietly into Sebastian’s ear. “If Mycroft and his poxy government hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t have the information on Sherlock I needed would I?”

“I suppose not…” Sebastian began, but was interrupted by Moriarty nipping his earlobe.

“That said,” continued the criminal, still deathly quiet. “I did miss you an awful lot whilst I was being detained. You can be rather a pleasure to have around when I’m feeling…angsty…” Jim bit his earlobe a bit harder this time, making Sebastian’s eyes roll upwards slightly. He edged his hands down and slid his fingers through Moriarty’s, leaning his head back further.

“You’re the only person in this world that knows what I’m really like; that I can act myself around. You should count yourself a lucky boy…” he trailed off, continuing to slowly suck on Sebastian’s earlobe. The sniper let out a small moan and bucked his hips back into Jim’s, creating friction between them.

“But, as much as I want you right now, I need your help with something else,” Moriarty sighed, stepping back from Sebastian and closing his eyes, trying to distract himself from his growing arousal. Sebastian noticed it seemed, as seconds later, his arms wrapped themselves round Jim’s body and started slowly kissing his neck, pulling him in tighter. Moriarty groaned, both out of lust and confusion.

“You’re feeling very brave Sebby. There was a time where I would’ve flogged you for even speaking without being asked, let alone touch me.”

“I know, but, you’re obviously struggling with something…I know how to make you feel better Boss…” Even though they had breached the barriers between work and play many years ago, Jim still liked it when Sebastian called him ‘Boss’. It turned him on in a way he couldn’t describe. But there were more pressing matters to be taken care of.

“Sebastian…” he whispered, trying to push the man away. Even though at the present moment he was clearly feeling sexually vulnerable, Sebastian still knew that Jim could switch emotions in a blink, so he knew better than to push his luck with him. He stood back, defeated and the two men stood staring at each other for a moment. Then, as Sebastian had predicted, there was a sudden shift in Jim’s posture, and he instantly was in work-mode again. Sebastian envied him for that. He still had an aching desire for the man he couldn’t shift. He stepped back and sat down on the sofa, staring up at Moriarty, waiting for command. The criminal turned to him, his face completely void of expression.

“I need you to do something for me Moran. I still need to execute my plan for Sherlock. This involves me getting arrested and put on trial.” Sebastian stared inquisitively, unsure of where this was going.

“And how do you plan on doing that Boss?”

“By getting caught stealing the crown jewels,” he replied matter-of-factly, as though it was a perfectly ordinary thing to suggest. Sebastian just gaped at him in horror.

“You- what? Boss, are you being serious? The crown jewels?” Moriarty frowned at him.

“Yes? What’s so mad about that?” Sebastian sighed to himself. He almost admired Jim’s lack of fear when it came to illogical crimes. But, he knew Jim. He knew he would only do something if it benefitted him, so he decided to dismiss his objections and focus on the job in hand.

“So what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to pay a visit to these people.” Moriarty walked over to his desk and pulled some papers out of the drawer, chucking them beside Moran. He sifted through them quickly, instantly saving their photos to his memory. “For this plan to work, I need willing participants. Pay them off if you have to, but should they refuse you know what to do. I also need you to hack into these hotel rooms and place messages with these images on the tv screens. I’ve already infiltrated the jury selection so I know who it will be.” Jim was being more efficient than usual tonight, but Sebastian knew it was only because of the prospect of meeting Sherlock Holmes again was spurring him on. He hated himself for the jealousy he felt when he saw how passionate Jim was about Sherlock, but that really wasn’t his problem now. Right now, he needed to focus on making Jim happy, and if this was how, then so be it.

“Consider it done Boss.” Moriarty visibly relaxed and leant down to grab the papers back. Before he could stand back up Sebastian grabbed his wrist and pulled him in so their faces were millimeters apart.

“You better have a bloody good plan Boss, because if this doesn’t work out, you know there’s no one on earth, no walls, no bars, that could stop me from bringing you home to me.” Moriarty’s eyes darkened momentarily before he straightened up and pulled Sebastian with him, drawing him close so their bodies were flush against each other.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” he replied, triumphant. “Bed, now,” he ordered and Sebastian more than willingly complied.

It was almost 2am and Moriarty was sat at his desk, watching Moran sleeping opposite in his bed. He wanted more than anything to sleep but right now his mind was too preoccupied. Sherlock Holmes. That damn detective. Why was he so obsessed? Well, he knew part of the reason; he had never met anyone who was worthy enough to challenge him and he found it positively exhilarating. But there was something else, something more. He hung his head in his hands, contemplating their plan. Maybe he would get his answer at the trial. After all, that would be the next time he would see Sherlock in person if he could behave himself and stick to just watching the hidden camera footage of the flat in front of him on his laptop. He had bugged the flat months ago, curious to how Sherlock was when he wasn’t around him. But right now, Sherlock was in bed, so Jim was without entertainment. He heard Sebastian stir and he reached out to shut his laptop. Sighing he got up and climbed into bed next to Sebastian. He gazed up at Jim sleepily and the criminal rolled his eyes, smirking.

“You’re bloody lucky I’m too knackered to kick you out Sebby. You know you’re not allowed to sleep with me.”

“I love that I’m the only one to be allowed into bed with you.”

Moriarty sighed to himself as an odd thought came into his head. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t the only one he was interested in anymore. He shook his head and eventually fell asleep, his dreams constantly interrupted by images of Sherlock Holmes…


	2. The Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would create my own version of the tea after the trial scene ;)

Sherlock sat, his fingers steepled under his chin, looking into the harsh, bright orange light erupting from the fireplace. The fire crackled quietly as he waited for the call. Minutes later, as he’d predicted, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and answered.

  
“John?”

  
“Innocent,” came John’s disbelieving voice through the speaker. “The jury went an declared him bloody innocent!”

  
Before John could finish, Sherlock hung up and placed his phone back into his pocket. The verdict was just as he had expected. He had work to do.  
As the kettle boiled, he poured the hot water into a pot and placed it on a tray on the coffee table with cups and tea. While he waited, he picked up his violin and started playing quietly. Sure enough, there soon sounded the customary speak of the third step up to the flat and he stopped playing immediately.

  
“Most people knock. But your not most people I suppose.”

  
Without turning to face the man now standing in the doorway, Sherlock made his way over to the fireplace, now embers smoldering, and rested his violin on the side. Finally, he faced the consulting criminal.

  
“Kettle’s just boiled,” he said, as though it was normal for dangerous criminals to make themselves at home in his flat.

  
“Johann Sebastian would be appalled,” came the familiar, Irish drawl, as Jim Moriarty walked into the room and picked up one of the apples from the fruit bowl. “May I?” he asked politely, walking towards Sherlock and motioning to the chairs.

  
“Please,” the other replied, pointing at John’s chair. To his annoyance, Moriarty deliberately chose the other chair, sitting down effortlessly, as though he’d sat there many times before. Sherlock wondered idly if the criminal had visited his flat before whilst he was out, but to his surprise, the thought didn’t concern him at all. He frowned in confusion as he took the armchair opposite Moriarty and returned to steepling his fingers under his chin. They stared at each other darkly as they poured their tea. Moriarty was the first to break the silence.

  
“You know when he was on his deathbed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces, the boy stopped before he got to the end…”

  
“And the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it,” interrupted Sherlock, feigning boredom.

  
“Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody,” continued moriarty, almost to himself, it seemed. Sherlock cocked his head, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  
“Neither can you. It’s why you’ve come.”

  
Moriarty smiled, though his eyes remained dark. “But be honest, you’re just a tiny bit pleased.”

  
“What, with the verdict?”

  
“With me, back on the streets.” He paused, eying Sherlock up and down before fixing them on Sherlock’s. “Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” He winked at Sherlock and the detective sucked in a big intake of breath at the gesture. He knew Jim noticed, the man started smiling to himself as he took a sip of his tea.

  
“You need me,” he continued, “Or you’re nothing. We’re just alike you and I. But you’re boring. Your on the side of the angels.” He took another sip of tea and Sherlock found his eyes wondering to gaze at the criminal’s mouth as he licked his lips thoughtfully. He shrugged the thought away hurriedly. What had gotten into him?

  
“Got to the jury of course,” Sherlock asked, an attempt to distract himself.

  
Moriarty looked down at him, almost condescendingly. “I got into the tower of London, you don’t think I can’t worm my way into 12 hotel rooms…”

  
“Cable network?”

  
“Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen. And every person has their pressure point. Someone that they want to protect from harm… Easy peasy…" Moriarty’s brow furrowed suddenly at what he had said. He thought about whether there was anyone on Earth he wanted to protect from harm. He knew the answer to that. That was his problem. His real, final problem.

“Is that how your going to do it? Burn me?” Sherlock said, snapping Moriarty out of his thoughts. The criminal started playing with the apple he had picked up, eyes now adverted from Sherlock’s. Sherlock looked up at him, intrigued. Finally the criminal spoke, though quietly.

“Ah now that’s the problem. The final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?” He once again met Sherlock’s gaze and smiled like he had figured something clever out. He continued in more of a sing-song voice. “What’s the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen? How hard do you find it, having to say I don’t know?”

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“Ah that’s clever that’s very clever, awfully clever…” Jim mocked, returning his attention to the apple, which he was now attacking with a pen knife. Sherlock looked on, intrigued by the way the criminal’s pale white fingers moved so delicately but with such force at the same time. Moriarty noticed Sherlock watching and smiled to himself. He liked it when he had Sherlock’s full attention. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?”

  
“Told them what?”

  
“Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.”

  
“No.”

  
“But you understand.”

  
“Obviously.”

  
Moriarty paused, then smiled to himself.

  
“Off you go then.”

  
“You want me to tell you what you already know?” said Sherlock, confused.

“No, I want you to prove that you know it.”

  
“You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to…”

  
“Good…” whispered Moriarty. He loved watching Sherlock deduct.

  
“You’ll never need to take anything again...”

  
“Very good, because…”

  
“There’s nothing, nothing in the Bank of England, Tower of London or Pentenville Prison that could possibly match the value of the key that can get you in to all three.”  
Moriarty closed his eyes momentarily, basking in his own glory and Sherlock’s underling tone of annoyed admiration.

  
“I can open any door anywhere, with just a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. They’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes… I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms the man with the key is king and honey, you should see me in a crown.” Sherlock breathing became shallower as the power in Moriarty’s voice became more apparent. At the word ‘honey’ he felt his stomach clench strangely. He rolled his eyes at himself, realizing that Moriarty could sense his reactions. Where were these odd feelings coming from? He tried to distract himself again.

  
“You were advertising all the way through the trial, you were showing the world what you can do?”

  
“And you were helping,” Jim replied, his eyes lighting up at the realization in Sherlock’s. “Big client list; rogue governments, intelligence communities, terror cells… they all want me. Suddenly, I’m mister sex.” He leaned back and rubbed his thighs slowly, catching Sherlock’s attention immediately. Again Sherlock felt his stomach clench and he bit his lip. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the invading thoughts. Jim stared at him, curious, sensing Sherlock’s discomfort. He smiled to himself. Maybe his problem wasn’t going to be that much of a problem after all? The grip on his thighs became tighter and he stared at his hands questioningly.

  
“You can break any bank, why do you care about the highest bidder?” Sherlock’s voice broke Moriarty out of his reverie, and he regained his composure.

  
“I don’t, I just like to watch them all competing. ‘Daddy loves me the best!’ Aren’t ordinary people adorable… Well you know… You’ve got john. I should get myself a live in one…” he said to himself thoughtfully, his mind returning to his ‘problem’.

  
“Why are you doing this?”

  
“Would be so funny…” he whispered to himself, ignoring Sherlock.

“You don’t want money or power, not really, what is it all for?”

“I want to solve the problem,” Moriarty said finally, quietly. “Our problem. The final problem. It’s gonna start very soon Sherlock, the fall. But don’t be scared, fallings just like flying except there’s a more permanent destination…”

  
Sherlock stood, adjusting his jacket and frowning at Moriarty. What did he mean by ‘falling’?

  
“Never liked riddles,” he said, annoyed. Jim stood up slowly, he prowess sending an odd shiver down Sherlock’s spine, which wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. After too adjusting his jacket, Moriarty stepped towards Sherlock so they were close enough to hear each other’s erratic breathing.

  
“Learn to,” he whispered, leaning in even closer so they were inches apart. “Because I owe you a fall Sherlock. I. Owe. You…”

  
Sherlock looked into the man’s eyes, searching and noticed Jim’s pupils dilate slightly. His breath hitched and he stepped back a little. He now understood the final problem. The real one.


	3. Human After All?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just pure smut to be honest! Enjoy! ;)

They stood staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, their breathing slowly becoming faster as they both realized what was truly going on. Finally, Moriarty recovered himself and with another lingering stare, he turned to leave. Without even realizing it at first, Sherlock suddenly grabbed Moriarty’s wrist and pulled him back towards him. He didn’t struggle. He just stood there, staring intently at Sherlock as if he was a wild animal.  
“What?” Jim whispered.  
“I know what your problem is James.”  
He heard Moriarty’s sharp intake of breath at the sound of his name.  
“No one calls me by my real name Sherlock. No one,” he whispered, almost threateningly.  
“I’m not just anyone though am I, and neither are you.” Sherlock took a step towards the criminal, his hand still wrapped round the man’s wrist.  
“No, we aren’t” whispered Moriarty to himself, looking down at Sherlock’s hand on his wrist. After a beat, Moriarty took a step towards Sherlock so they were once again inches from each other.  
“Tell me my problem. Sherlock,” he whispered into the detective’s ear. Sherlock could feel Moriarty’s breath against his neck and it sent shivers down his spine. His eyes rolled momentarily upwards before he managed to compose himself.  
“Your problem is yourself.”  
Moriarty leaned back slightly so they could stare at each other’s faces. He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.  
“Is it now…” he breathed.  
“We are, as we like to say, mortal enemies,” Sherlock whispered, “And you want nothing more than to beat me. But you’ve become too obsessed with the game James. Suddenly, keeping me around is more important to you than beating me...”  
He heard Moriarty’s breath hitch again at the sound of his name. He stared back at the detective, almost angrily.  
“And what makes you think that Sherlock?” he said in a deathly whisper.  
Sherlock looked him up and down before continuing, noticing his stomach clenching again, but this time not ignoring it.  
“If you wanted to kill me you would have by now. But you haven’t. You keep playing these elaborate games to get me closer to you. You constantly make jokes at John’s expense… tell me James…are you jealous of John?”  
Moriarty snorted, leaning in closer to Sherlock so their noses were almost touching.  
“Why would I be jealous? I have my own pet don’t I?” He murmured.  
“Sebastian doesn’t count James. He is your plaything. Your growing bored of him. You want both him and John gone, so you can be alone with your equal…”  
“And who is that?”  
“Me.”  
Moriarty sighed, almost sexually, and Sherlock felt his cock twitch at the sound. His body’s reaction confused him.  
“Do tell Sherlock.”  
“Well,” Sherlock started, almost shakily. The proximity of the man he loathed was exciting to him. It was like a whole knew game of theirs. “Every time you get close to me, your eyes dilate, your breathing quickens, and your pulse is racing. And I think the fact that your hand is now holding mine would be a dead giveaway…”  
Moriarty frowned and looked down. His fingers were intertwined with Sherlock’s and he hadn’t even noticed himself doing it. He breathed in sharply as he realized Sherlock was right. He lifted his head back up, the closeness making him rub his nose against Sherlock’s as he did. They both heard their breaths hitch for the last time.  
“Your curiosity has got the better of you James. You were so curious about how my brain worked, but now the rest of me intrigues you. We are the only two. We were made for each other. And the only reason we are fighting, is because we both know that…”  
Sherlock rubbed his nose against Jim’s, and pulled him in so their bodies were flush. Moriarty didn’t attempt to free himself. He knew Sherlock was right.  
“But I hate you…” he whispered, leaning in.  
“I hate you too,” replied Sherlock as their lips came together.  
The kiss was brief and lasted only moments. Suddenly Moriarty pulled away and stepped back, freeing his hand from Sherlock’s to point at him accusingly.  
“ You will burn Sherlock! You’re insane! More than me!”  
Sherlock stared at him passively, almost irritated that Moriarty was still denying his feelings.  
“I’m not insane at all. That’s why you’re so angry with me,” he said calmly. He could see the rage bubbling up in the criminal. “It’s okay James. I think. I think it’s okay.” He himself was still troubled by his conflicted feelings Moriarty, but right now, he knew what he wanted. All his life he had been searching for excitement, danger, and adventure. Now the concept of being fucked by his mortal enemy was positively electrifying. But Jim was having none of it. Suddenly, he charged at Sherlock, pinning him against the wall and slapped him hard across the face. He yanked him up by the collar of his jacket and flung him to the floor, pinning him down, attempting to punch him. Sherlock managed to wiggle his hand free and grab Jim’s fist just in time as it came flying towards him. He stopped fighting and knelt stock still over Sherlock, panting.  
“What have you done to me,” he growled, shocked at his arousal at having Sherlock pinned beneath him. Before Sherlock could answer, he gave a huge sigh of acknowledgment and suddenly his lips were on the detective’s. Sherlock let go of Jim’s fist and grabbed his hip, pulling Jim tighter into the kiss and rubbing their crotches together. Jim moaned into the kiss as he felt the friction hard against his throbbing cock. He rolled his groin harder into Sherlock’s, making them both groan as their cock’s rubbed together. Jim pushed his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth hard, and rubbed it against Sherlock’s, in time with the movement of their hips. Sherlock slowly made his hand slide down between them, slipping it into Jim’s trousers and cupped his arousal through his pants. He squeezed slightly and Jim shivered, pushing into Sherlock’s hand.  
“What are we doing?” panted Moriarty and Sherlock started to rub his hand harder up and down the criminal’s length.  
“I don’t know,” gasped Sherlock, bucking his hips up to meet the back of his hand, which was now rubbing against Moriarty’s cock frantically. “You want to stop?”  
“No,” Jim gulped, returning to kissing him.  
Sherlock pulled his hand away, and twisted Jim so that he was underneath him and started unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. Moriarty groaned as Sherlock’s cold fingers travelled fleetingly across his bare skin. Jim repeated the action on the detective, sliding their shirts off and reaching for each other’s belts. Sherlock’s hand grazed the lines of Moriarty’s hips, just above his trousers. As he undid the zipper, he started kissing down Moriarty’s neck and sucking hard on his nipples. He felt Jim convulse beneath him and it made him ridiculously horny. As he slid Jim’s trousers and pants down, he licked down his stomach and sucked hard just above his hipbone. Moriarty bucked up into Sherlock’s chest and he sucked bruises into his skin.  
“Lower Sherlock…” he growled, grabbing Sherlock’s hair and trying to push him down. The detective smiled to himself at Moriarty’s attempt to regain some of his power. So this was the great Moriarty’s weakness? Who knew it would be so human?  
Sherlock did as he was bid and kissed down Moriarty’s shaft, hearing his breathing getting louder and gasp as the detective kissed the tip. He slowly flicked his tongue up and around his cock, fondling his balls as he did. He could hear Moriarty moaning and grabbing Sherlock’s hair.  
“Fuckkk…” he groaned to himself, his head arching back and eyes rolling upwards as Sherlock continued the slow, relentless torture. Finally he could take it no more.  
“Suck my cock Sherlock!” he moaned loudly bucking his hips up to meet the detective’s mouth. Sherlock smiled to himself again. He was only too happy to oblige, especially as teasing the criminal was making him uncomfortably hard.  
He took Moriarty’ cock deep into his mouth and sucked hard. The criminal moaned loudly, pushing Sherlock’s head down harder, fucking his mouth. Sherlock swirled his tongue around Jim’s cock as he sucked, slowly getting faster and harder. With all the strength he could manage, Moriarty managed to pull Sherlock off him before he found his release. Sherlock looked up at him, confused. Moriarty stared back, panting hard. He twisted Sherlock over so once again he was on top and started undressing Sherlock as the detective had undressed him.  
“I need to be inside you Sherlock,” he groaned, grabbing Sherlock’s shaft and rubbing slowly up and down. Sherlock leaned his head back in ecstasy, grabbing at the carpet beneath him.  
“Do it, now.” Sherlock moaned loudly as Moriarty’s grip became tighter and he started pumping faster.  
“No, I want you to beg me Sherlock…” came the whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine as Moriarty bit his ear lobe. So even when he was struggling to stay in control, the criminal still wanted to play the power game. Sherlock wanted to protest, but the idea of Jim having complete control over him almost sent him over the edge.  
“Please. James. Fuck. Me.” He panted each word in time with each thrust of Moriarty’s grip. He could feel the criminal’s smile at his ear.  
“Again, Sherlock…”  
Moriarty now had both their cocks in his grip and was rubbing them together, slower now, achingly slow. Sherlock could feel Jim’s throbbing against his and it made him quiver with want.  
“Please! Fuck me James! Fuck me!” Sherlock cried out as Jim’s expert fingers moved up and down against their shafts. Moriarty could take no more of the teasing; he was too close to the edge, blinded by his power over Sherlock.  
“Good boy, Daddy’s going to take you now,” Moriarty hissed into Sherlock’s ear as he flipped him over onto his hands and knees and rubbed his cock against the detective’s hole. Slowly he pushed a finger inside him, then another, in and out, rubbing against his prostate. He heard Sherlock gasp at the intrusion, but soon followed with a long, aching moan as the criminal rubbed lightly against his prostate.  
“Deeper,” Sherlock groaned, leaning back into Moriarty’s fingers.  
“Ah ah ah, Sherlock, Daddy’s in charge now, you stay still,” Moriarty murmured into the back of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock leant forward, trying to get some friction, but Moriarty kept him forcefully still.  
“I like teasing you, I love it when you beg…” Moriarty threw his head back, aroused by his own words, and slowly rubbing the tip of his cock whilst still pumping his fingers in and out of Sherlock.  
“I need your cock inside me!” Sherlock cried, unable to take the torture anymore. Moriarty finally gave in, and removed his fingers. He rubbed the tip of his cock round and round against Sherlock’s hole and oh so slowly sunk into him. Sherlock cried out and grabbed the carpet with one hand and the table leg with the other. Slowly, Jim started moving, slowly out, and then back in hard. With each thrust they both moaned loudly in unison, Moriarty’s fingers digging in to Sherlock’s shaking hips. The assaults got gradually faster until they were no longer controlled, just manic thrusts, aching for release. Sherlock felt one of Moriarty’s hands round his, pulling it over towards his length, and slowly rubbing up and down it together.  
“Come for me Sherlock. Come,” Jim whispered against his back and it was enough to send him over the edge; he shouted out his nemesis’ name, arching his back, and leaning into Jim’s cock as he came all over the carpet. Moriarty could feel the throb of Sherlock’s cock as he came and it too sent him over the edge, coming deep and hard into Sherlock.  
They collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily next to each other and both staring up at the ceiling, contemplating what they had just done. As logic seeped slowly back into Sherlock’s brain he realized what had happened. He had just had sex with the most dangerous man in the world. The man that wanted him dead.


	4. The Plan Unfurls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both the consultants are unsure of their feelings after their sexual encounter, but that doesn't stop Moriarty from continuing with his plan...

The pair laid there on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, both contemplating the consequences of what they had just done. Finally, Moriarty got up and starting re-dressing himself, making sure he never made eye contact with Sherlock. The detective sat up and watched curiously.  
“James, what just- ”  
“This doesn’t change anything Sherlock,” the criminal interrupted harshly. He hesitated before turning round to face him, now fully dressed. “And don’t call me James.”  
Sherlock frowned before realization spread across his face. “Only Sebastian is allowed to call you that isn’t he?”  
The smaller man nodded quietly turning to leave. As he approached the threshold, Sherlock’s voice stopped him.  
“Does he know? Does he know about us?”  
Jim laughed derisively. “Us? There is no ‘us’. Don’t sound so ordinary Sherlock. But no, to my knowledge he doesn’t know. And as much as I’d like to keep it that way, I’m almost 100% sure he followed me here, watched us and is now probably waiting round the corner for me demanding an explanation.” He hesitated once more before leaving. “I really pity the idiots that think they can control me…” His voice reverberated eerily off the walls as he made his way down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind him. Sherlock slowly got to his feet and walked over to the window to watch Moriarty walk round the corner. He frowned to himself again, wondering if the game was still on, or if there was now something very different going on.  
Just as Moriarty had predicted, as soon as he turned the corner a car pulled up beside him. He leant against the driver door and peered in almost mockingly as Sebastian rolled down the window.   
“Oh thank God Sebby, I feared for my life walking down the street alone!” Jim feigned relief, but ruined it by winking at him. Sebastian didn’t look remotely amused.  
“Get in,” he growled. “Now.”  
Moriarty raised his eyebrows in mock horror and deliberately took his time walking round to the passenger side. He got in and stared at the sniper, smirking, his incident with Sherlock momentarily forgotten. He loved to tease Sebastian.   
“Where were you?” asked Moran, sounding wounded. “You said you would come straight home after the trial!”  
Jim rolled his eyes. Ordinary people really were adorable. “I took a detour Seb, is that okay?” he said with simulated innocence.  
“Bloody long detour,” Sebastian muttered to himself, pulling away from the curb and heading up the road. Again Jim rolled his eyes, he was started to get irritated now.   
“Remember your place Sebastian. I am not yours; you are mine. If I want something, I get it. Okay? I do what I please, when I please, and there is no one on earth that can control that. And I certainly don’t need to run it by you,” he finished, almost harshly.  
Sebastian recoiled slightly at the criminal’s words. Finally he replied in a small voice.  
“I’m sorry boss, I was just worried what had happened to you, seeing at the whole of London is pretty pissed off at you,” he said as they pulled up to the iron gates that guarded the car park of the high security apartment they lived in. Moriarty turned to him as the car stopped.  
“You think anyone could get to me? You are adorable Sebby. No one will ever get to me. I am untouchable,” he whispered, rubbing his hand up Sebastian’s leg provocatively. The sniper closed his eyes momentarily before returning the alluring touch to Jim.  
“Your not untouchable to me though…”  
The pair kissed passionately but it wasn’t long before Sebastian pulled away. Jim looked at him, frowning.   
“I know where you went James.” Sebastian withdrew his hand from Moriarty’s thigh and looked down at his feet.  
“Well that much is obvious considering you knew where to pick me up. Where are you going with this Sebastian?” the criminal asked irritated, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  
“I know what you were doing,” Sebastian said, barely audible.  
Moriarty looked at him, half amused, half incredulous.   
“You’re jealous!” he cried, slapping Moran’s thigh in delight. The sniper said nothing, continuing to stare at his feet out of embarrassment.   
“Oh come one Seb, its all part of the plan, you know you’re the only one that can really satisfy me…” he leant in and whispered the last part in Moran’s ear, returning to rubbing his thigh. Sebastian sighed, almost in relief and turned to face his lover and boss.   
“I have no idea what the hell this grand scheme of yours is, but I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said resigned. Jim bit back his retort. He couldn’t be bothered to argue now, especially as he didn’t want to reveal that sleeping with Sherlock hadn’t been part of the plan at all. He decided instead to distract himself with the best way he knew how. He grabbed Sebastian’s chin and pulled him into a long, over-powering kiss, leaving the sniper breathless when he pulled away.   
“ I need you boss,” Moran whispered in the criminal’s ear, nipping at his earlobe, and gliding his hand up towards Moriarty’s crotch.   
“Well we’d better get inside then hadn’t we dear.”

Sherlock stared vacantly at his computer screen. He hadn’t heard a thing from Moriarty for weeks. And he couldn’t deny that the little kidnapped girl screaming at him had put him on edge. He knew it was only a matter of time before Anderson or Donovan tried to convince Lestrade that he was responsible. John wasn’t helping his mood either, pacing up and down the room over and over again. It was another 4 hours before his calculations came true. Breathless from walking up the stairs, Lestrade stood in the doorway, staring sympathetically at Sherlock.  
“No, I’m not coming,” the detective said, bored, not looking up from his microscope.   
The policeman didn’t bother to argue, and made his way back down the stairs. Soon enough, a whole band of police cars were parked outside waiting for Sherlock. As both him and John were held against one of the cars, Sherlock suddenly got an idea. He pushed the radio receiver lying on the dashboard into the speaker and it set off an ear-piercing screech, making all the officers duck, therefore allowing him and John time to escape. They ran as fast as they could, turning down alleyways and jumping over fences. Finally they came out into a deserted street and rested against the wall to catch their breath, sure that they had evaded the police. After a few minutes Sherlock looked up to see what street they were on, and he instantly had a thought.  
“That journalist lives here John, the one that corned me in the toilets at the trial. She’s apparently written an article about me from a source named Brook and I’d quite like to know whom that is. Also she definitely has keys to handcuffs.”  
“How do you know that?” John replied, still trying to catch his breath.  
“She slipped her card with her details into my pocket- ”  
“No you idiot I mean how do you know she has keys to handcuffs!”  
“Oh, just an observation,” Sherlock replied, bored at John’s silly questions.  
It didn’t take them long before they found her flat and broke in. They sat waiting on her sofa for almost an hour before the lock finally clicked and the journalist entered the room. She jumped at the sight of them before recovering herself and chucking her bag on the armchair. Sherlock lifted his hand up that had John’s handcuffed to it, and she got the message. After they managed to uncuff themselves Sherlock turned to Kitty, not leaving much personal space.  
“Who is Richard Brook?” he snarled.  
But just as she was about to reply, they heard the lock click again and she suddenly looked afraid. The two men spun around as Jim Moriarty walked into the room, looking very disheveled. His hair was a complete mess and he hadn’t shaved recently. His clothes were baggy and looked so odd compared to his usual impeccable Westwood suits. As he caught sight of the duo he froze and held his hands up in the air, dropping the shopping. He shared a momentary glance with Sherlock before addressing the journalist.  
“You said I would be safe here, you said they wouldn’t find me!” he cried, genuinely looked petrified.  
“It’s okay Rich, they can’t harm you here,” Kitty said, walking over to wrap her arms round him in comfort.   
“So Moriarty is Rich Brook!” said John incredulously.  
“Of course he is, there is no Moriarty!” Kitty replied scornfully. “He’s an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to play Jim Moriarty!”  
“Please, Mr. Watson, I know you’re a good man, please don’t hurt me,” the criminal whimpered, putting his hands back up in defense.  
Sherlock looked on at the situation, stunned for words. So the game wasn’t over after all. He looked Moriarty up and down in confusion, calmly trying to assess his feelings about the man whilst he listened to John loose his temper.  
“No you are him! You are Jim Moriarty!” John shouted threateningly.  
“I’m not! Please I have proof, show him! Just tell him Sherlock! Just tell him!”  
“Stop this!” Sherlock finally cracked. “Stop this now!” He advanced towards the criminal, but his sudden movement was all it took. Moriarty fled up the stairs and shut himself in the bathroom. Damn that man was fast! By the time Sherlock had got to the door and swung it open, the criminal had disappeared through the window and into the night. Sherlock leant back against the door, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into, and why, even in his rage, he still wanted Moriarty.

Moriarty slid down the roof, thankful for once that he didn’t have one of his suits on. He climbed down the stairwell on the side of the building and adjusted himself as he jumped down onto the pavement. He turned down the alley and ran out across the road, ignoring the cars breaking suddenly and sounding their horns at him. He ran over to the black Mercedes parked on the other side and just as a bus came hurtling towards him, he felt a pair of hands grab him and pull him into the car, narrowly avoiding getting run over. He fell onto the driver’s lap, breathing heavily. He looked up into Moran’s furious glare. Before he could catch his breath, the sniper pushed him into the adjacent seat and pulled away aggressively, speeding down the road.   
“The fuck James! Do you have a death wish or something?!” Jim decided not to answer that.   
“Seriously, you would’ve thought the world’s most cleverest criminal would know to look before crossing the road!”  
Moriarty smirked at him, still breathing heavily.   
“Chill out darling I’m fine,” he winked. Sebastian rolled his eyes, very pissed off but not wanting another argument. They’d been arguing a lot recently about Jim’s obsession with Sherlock. He took a deep breath in and calmed himself down a little. He looked at his boss quickly, noticing his attire.  
“The hell are you wearing?”  
“Oh it’s a new look I’m trying out. Like it?”  
They both stared seriously at each other for a second before bursting out with laughter. Moriarty leant back in his seat and closed his eyes, obviously very happy with himself.   
“The plan is coming together nicely Sebby, everything’s falling into place.” Even in his self-wonder, he still couldn’t help but wonder about his conflicted feelings for Sherlock. On one hand he was obsessed with winning this game, but on the other… To not have him around would be a serious disappointment also. He frowned to himself, angry at his stupid feelings that seemed to be emerging for the detective. That night he laid awake with Sebastian sleeping curled at the foot of his bed, and tried to work out what the hell he was going to do.


	5. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go slightly differently up on the roof than Moriarty had intended, now a third person has come into play.

Merely a week after he had revealed his plan to Sherlock, Moriarty got the text he had been waiting for.

BART’S HOSPITAL ROOFTOP. SH.

He smirked to himself. Everything was coming together. He had eventually decided to carry on with the plan as he had originally devised it. Damn his feelings for Sherlock. His life would be much simpler if the detective wasn’t in it. Anyway, he always had Sebastian to play with. He made his way immediately to the hospital, driven by the sniper. Just before he got out, Moran grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, so their noses were almost touching.  
“Don’t go off-plan. Please. I know what you’re like. I need you safe,” he whispered to the criminal. Jim sighed at his sniper’s ever-headstrong emotions.  
“One day, you’ll understand Sebby.” He kissed him hard briefly, and then got out of the car, leaving Sebastian breathless and agitated. He knew there was something his boss was keeping from him, and he intended to find out what it was.  
Up on the roof, Moriarty sat on the ledge, peering down and winking to the sniper who was still sat in the car. Moran rolled his eyes furiously; he wished he wouldn’t lean over the edge like that, though he knew Jim was only doing it to taunt him. Finally Sherlock appeared through the fire door.  
“Well. Here we are at last. You and me Sherlock, and our problem. The final problem. Staying alive!” Moriarty shouted over to him theatrically. “So boring isn’t it? It’s just stay-ing… All my life I’ve been searching for distractions and you were the best distraction, and now I don’t even have you. I’ve beaten you. And you know what, in the end it was easy! It was easy. And now I’ve got to go back to playing with the ordinary people and it turns out your ordinary just like all of them.” He sighed to himself before turning to Sherlock who was now standing behind him. He stared at him triumphantly before continuing.  
“Oh well! Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get ya?” he winked at the detective who stood glaring at him with his arms behind his back.  
“Richard Brook,” the detective said quietly.  
“Nobody seems to get the joke. But you do,” Moriarty jested, starting to walk circles around Sherlock.  
“Of course.”  
“Atta boy…”  
“Rich Brook in German is Reichenbach. The case that made my name.”  
“Just trying to have some fun!” Jim said mockingly, noticing Sherlock tapping his fingers against one another. He smiled, almost impressed. “Good you got that too…”  
“Beats like digits. Every beat is a one, every rest is a 0. Binary code. That’s why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me, hidden inside my head, a few lines of computer code that can break into any system- ”  
“Told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock is a sissy,” Moriarty interrupted, obviously enjoying himself.  
“Yes, but now that its up here I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty,” the detective replied arrogantly. Moriarty clapped his hands to his face like he was in pain and moaned loudly.  
“No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy! This is too easy! THERE IS NO KEY CODE DUFUS! Those digits are meaningless, they’re utterly meaningless! You don’t really think that a few lines of computer code are going to crash the world around our feet?! I’m disappointed! I’m disappointed in you ordinary Sherlock!”  
“But the rhythm…”  
“Ortega number one thank you Johann Sebastian Bach!”  
“Then how did you- ”  
“Then how did I break into the bank, the tower, the prison?!” Moriarty continued to shout, furious now at Sherlock’s incompetency. “Daylight robbery! All it takes is a few willing participants. I knew you’d fall for it, that’s your weakness, you always want everything to be clever!”  
He walked back over to the edge, trying to calm himself down. Finally he spoke, his voice more calm.  
“Now lets finish the game. One final act. Glad you chose a tall building, nice way to do it…”  
“Do, do what? Yes of course, my suicide,” Sherlock said as realization dawned on him. He walked over to Moriarty and stood by him on the edge.  
“Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the papers so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales. And pretty grim ones too…” Moriarty jeered, leaning over his shoulder in amusement. Sherlock turned to face him, making their proximity that much closer. Both find their breaths hitch, but ignore it.  
“I can still prove you completely created a false identity- ” Sherlock started, voice breaking slightly as he felt Moriarty’s breath on his neck.  
“Oh just kill yourself, it’ll be a lot less effort. Go on, for me, pleaseeeeee…” He was stopped in his tracks by Sherlock, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him so he was leaning over the edge of the building.  
“Your insane!” Sherlock breathed.  
“You’re just getting that now?” started Moriarty but stopped again as Sherlock shook him like he was going to drop him. Below, Sebastian was now out of the car, standing in horror at the scene above him. He silently prayed that Sherlock was strong enough to hold him without dropping him over the edge. Back on the rooftop, Jim’s brain was working overtime. The danger and the proximity of Sherlock was starting to turn him on and he couldn’t concentrate. He decided to go for his usual tactic.  
“Okay let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don’t.”  
Sherlock froze.  
“John?”  
“Not just John, everyone.”  
“Mrs. Hudson.”  
“Everyone.”  
“Lestrade.”  
“3 bullets, 3 gunmen, 3 victims. There’s no stopping them now, unless my people see you jump.”  
Sherlock pulled him back to standing on the ledge and Moriarty breathed in deeply, before continuing like nothing had happened.  
“You can have me arrested, you can torture me, you can do anything you like with me but nothing is going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only 3 friends in the world will die. Unless- ”  
“I kill myself, complete your story.”  
“You got to admit that’s sexier,” whispered Jim in his ear confidently.  
“And I die in disgrace.”  
“Of course that’s the point of this? Ah you’ve got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on. I told you how this ends. Your death is the only thing that will call off the killers. I’m certainly not going to do it!”  
Sherlock walked up right to the edge and looked down over the street beneath him. He had really thought for a moment that Moriarty would have changed his plans after their liaison. He silently cursed himself for thinking that the criminal would have given in so some human emotion. He could feel Jim’s presence behind him and the arousal he got from hearing his heavy breathing was very distracting. He needed time to think through a plan of his own.  
“Will you give me one moment please; one moment of privacy. Please?”  
“Of course,” Moriarty replied, amused.  
Sherlock stood on the edge, desperately trying to come up with a solution. Finally, it dawned on him and he burst out laughing at the stupidity of it all. Moriarty, hearing the laughter, stopped walking away and turned to face Sherlock, obviously pissed off.  
“What! What is it? What did I miss?!”  
Sherlock jumped off from the ledge and walked up towards the criminal so they were inches apart.  
“You’re not going to do it? So the killers can be called off then. There’s a recall code or a word or a number. I don’t have to die, if I’ve got you.”  
“Ohhh… you think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?” he asked dubiously.  
“Yes. So do you.”  
Jim chuckled to himself.  
“Sherlock, your big brother and all the kings horses couldn’t make me do a thing I didn’t want to.”  
It was Sherlock’s turn to walk circles now.  
“Yes but I’m not my brother remember. I’m you, prepared to doing anything, prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people wont do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell I shall not disappoint you…”  
“Nah you talk big, nah, your ordinary. Your ordinary; your on the side of the angels.”  
“I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them,” Sherlock hissed.  
In that moment, Jim saw Sherlock for what he truly was, and it made him almost jubilant. Maybe Sherlock would be of use after all? If he could somehow manage to get Sherlock on side, they would be the best pairing in the criminal world. They would be unstoppable.  
“Sebastian isn’t the only one that influences you now. You want me. You need me…” Sherlock whispered in Moriarty’s ear, making him shiver.  
“I do love to watch you deduct Sherlock. Do tell,” he whispered back.  
“You have taught yourself for a very long time to be able to switch your emotions off. In fact the only thing you feel now is hate. But there’s a problem with that isn’t there? The chemicals that produce the feelings of hate are exactly the same as the feelings of love.”  
Moriarty stared at him, for once genuinely shocked.  
“Are you seriously suggesting for one second…”  
“He’s right James.”  
Both spun around to look for where the mysterious voice had come from. Sherlock looked downright confused, but turning to Moriarty, he saw the expression on his face.  
“You know who that is don’t you?”  
“That would be Sebastian.”  
Slowly, the sniper walked out into view, holding out his gun at Sherlock and sneering.  
“Get the hell away from James Moriarty.”


	6. The Problem Solved?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Moriarty get out of this one?

It took a while for the silence to diffuse, though the tension was still there. Moriarty was staring at Sebastian as though he was completely mad and he stared back, looking almost as angry as his boss. Sherlock looked between them both, for once not knowing how to handle the situation. They hadn’t planned for this. Moriarty was the first to break the reticence.  
“Sebastian, this is not the time.” When the sniper didn’t move Jim sighed frustrated, and stepped towards him, so close that his gun was now resting against his boss’s forehead. Moran swallowed anxiously, staying exactly where he was and trying not to let Moriarty’s presence scare him into moving.  
“Why are you up here Sebastian you had clear instructions.”  
“Which I followed until he dangled you over the fucking roof,” Moran spat back, clearly furious at his boss’s lack of self-preservation. Moriarty gave a huge exasperated sigh and backed away, turning his back on his sniper and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He did not need this right now.  
“He’s right James,” Sebastian repeated quietly, his anger diffusing into anxiety once more. At his words Moriarty swung round suddenly, marched towards Moran and knocked the gun clean out of his hands, leaving it to skate across the rooftop. With his free hand he grabbed Sebastian by the neck and threw him against the wall behind him. Moran stared at him breathlessly in utter bewilderment at his boss’s sudden rage. So Sherlock couldn’t hear, Jim leaned in and whispered in the sniper’s ear.  
“You have almost completely ruined 3 years worth of work you complete and utter moron. Now you do as your told and go straight back to the car and stay there until I say so do you understand? You are so close to getting your head ripped off you have no idea…”  
“Please sir, I can’t let you do this,” Sebastian trembled quietly, looking deep into his master’s eyes.  
“It’s done Sebastian. Now go.”  
Moriarty let go of his neck and pushed him towards the door. Moran looked back, staring at the man he thought he loved, before exiting quietly. Jim returned his attention to Sherlock, trying to act as if nothing had happened.  
“So, where were we?” For a moment, Sherlock just stared before he fought back his composure.  
“James…what the hell-”  
“Just leave it Sherlock. He had no right.”  
“Jim, he’s in love with you, you know that right?” Moriarty stared incredulously at him.  
“What is it with people and their obsession with chemicals in their bloodstream!” he cried, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.  
“But you know we’re right…right?” Sherlock asked tentatively. Moriarty took in a big breath.  
“Yes of course I do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”  
They stood in silence for a moment.  
“Well this just made things rather complicated didn’t it?” Sherlock murmured after a beat, trying to inject some humour into the proceedings. Moriarty just shrugged.  
“Doesn’t have to be,” he replied thoughtfully. “I assume you’ve already guessed what my intentions were now Sebastian’s stuck his nose in?”  
Sherlock nodded. “And you know what I have planned in return?”  
“Of course.”  
Again they stood in silence, deliberating.  
“I have an idea,” Moriarty said cunningly, moving back over to Sherlock so they were inches apart. Before Sherlock could speak Jim placed a finger over Sherlock’s lips and with a wicked grin, leaned in to whisper in his ear.  
“Can you survive our little game Sherlock?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! It's because the next one will be rather long!!! :P


	7. Did you miss me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriarty returns after 2 years apart, but how he reveals himself leaves both Sherlock and John reeling.

It was a few weeks before John had finally forgiven Sherlock for leading him to believe he was dead for 2 years. It had taken a near-death experience for them to finally make amends. They approached the outside of 221B together after their ordeal, Sherlock waiting by the door as John said goodnight to Mary.  
“I won’t be home late,” he called after her as they entered the flat. It was immediate before they’d even got to the door that something wasn’t right. The door had been left ajar, the light casting weird shadows across the landing, and a faint running of water could be heard. They stared at each other, worried, before very quietly stepping inside. The flat was pitch black, apart from a slice of light emitting from the door of the bathroom, which was cracked open slightly. From inside they could hear the shower running. They shared an inquisitive look before tiptoeing down the hallway. Sherlock peeked through the crack and straightened up, smiling slightly to himself. John looked at his expression curiously just before Sherlock announced loudly, “Looks like we’ve got a visitor.”  
He opened the door wide to reveal a man fully dressed, sitting on the floor of their shower. There was blood everywhere. John stared at the man in complete and utter shock whilst Sherlock seemed to be unnerved by the situation. This made john even angrier.  
“What in God’s name is Jim Moriarty doing in our fucking shower?!” he shouted, pointing at the man who was soaking wet and obviously badly injured, but still managing a smirk on his arrogant face.   
“Oh dear, someone’s been a naughty boy,” he jested in his usual singsong voice. “Haven’t you told Jonny boy about our little game?”  
John looked from one to the other, silently demanding an explanation as his mouth didn’t seem to want to speak. Sherlock now looked a bit awkward, shuffling from foot to foot, wondering how to explain the situation without alienating John again. Moriarty, stilled covered in blood, remained under the steaming shower, closing his eyes and smirking to himself. John turned away from the criminal and faced Sherlock.   
“Care to explain?” he finally managed.  
“John, there’s something I probably should have told you before, I just didn’t know quite how to-”  
“How to tell me this psychopath was alive too you mean?” John interrupted.  
“Yeah,” Sherlock continued. “Everything I told you about what happened on the roof was true, I just left out a few key parts. Jim didn’t kill himself because he wasn’t there.”  
“Excuse me?” John spat, obviously completely dumbfounded by this information.  
“He wasn’t there,” Sherlock repeated. “He also wasn’t there at Kitty’s flat that night we ran from the police.”  
When John continued to stare nonplussed at him, Sherlock thought it was time to explain.   
“You noticed things about Moriarty that night surely? What finger did he point with?”  
“His left?” he said thoughtfully, trying very hard to remember that night 2 years ago. Sherlock was impressed at his memory. Even Moriarty nodded his head in what almost looked like admiration.   
“And that night we first met him, what hand did he use to tie you up with?”  
“Well his left obv…wait no. It was his right?” John was getting more confused by the second.  
“So…” Sherlock encouraged. “This means…”  
“He can change from right to left-handed?” John shrugged, starting to get annoyed.  
“No John. They were two different people.”  
“Very good,” Moriarty muttered from inside the shower, smiling his ridiculous smile at Sherlock like he was his favourite toy. John found their interaction very disconcerting.  
“He is two people?” he asked, trying to figure it all out.  
“Yes-”  
“No.” They both spun to face the criminal. It was time for them both to be confused.  
“I am three,” he said smugly. “Well, I was.”  
Sherlock nodded in understanding. “He killed the third didn’t he? That’s why you killed him?”  
“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on!” shouted John, appalled at Sherlock and his calm demeanor.  
“John, Jim Moriarty is one of three. He is a triplet.”  
It took a moment for John to process this.  
“He’s a triplet? What so that’s how he’s so successful? There’s three of him?”  
“There was,” Moriarty interjected. “But Joe shot Jim, the only one that was useful to me, and then Joe became a liability. Hence why I put him up on that roof and told him the gun was a fake. I was telling him everything to say through an earpiece the whole time. It was quite a performance I have to admit, he did it every well, but the idiot still couldn’t tell the difference between an empty and a loaded gun.”   
“And that’s why he calls himself Jim. I always thought it was short for James until I realized he was naming himself after the only person in the world he loved,” continued Sherlock.  
Moriarty rolled his eyes and stared pointedly at Sherlock. “Alright no need to get mushy.”  
“So let me get this straight, in order for you to both finish the game but still carry on, you made Sherlock fake his death and you tricked your brother into impersonating you and killing himself, therefore allowing your plan to go ahead but enable you both to carry on as if nothing had happened?” John tried to work everything out aloud.  
“Yes,” Sherlock and Moriarty said in unison.  
“I can’t believe this. You and him?!”  
“Yes,” said Sherlock.  
“Not quite,” said Moriarty.   
They both stared at each sarcastically before turning back to John who was trying to process everything. Finally he chose to ignore what he had just heard. It was mad, and he had more pressing issues. Right now a psychopath was in his bathroom and he wanted to know why.  
“Okay, so say I believe all this nonsense, that still doesn’t explain why you’re in our shower.”  
“Ah well, yes, I should probably explain,” Moriarty began, trying to move but wincing when he did. “Turns out you’re not the only one pissed off with us faking our deaths Jonny boy.”  
John frowned in annoyance at the nickname Moriarty had adopted for him but let him continue, eager to get this over with.  
“Like Sherlock I decided it was time to reenter society, so I tracked down Sebastian. I figured 2 years absence was punishment enough for his behaviour that night on the roof. Turns out he was even more pissed off than you Jonny boy! I walked in on him in the middle of a meeting with some rogue clients and after quickly explaining that they were here for my head, he left and locked me in the room with them, unarmed.”  
At this Sherlock raised his eyebrows in shock. Sebastian was used to Moriarty’s severe punishments, but had always remained loyal to him. Obviously this had been the final straw.  
“I then had a decision. Stay there and certainly die. Or jump 3 stories out the window and hope I survive. Normally I would have just opted for death, life is so boring, but I have some unfinished business to attend to, so I chose the latter. I survived the fall but obviously I’m rather badly hurt. I had nowhere else to go so I came here. No one was in so I thought I’d wash off the blood.”  
“Okay, so why didn’t you take off your clothes to shower?” John asked, still confused.  
Moriarty scoffed at John’s idiocy.  
“I thought you were a doctor! I’ve obviously dislocated my shoulder, hence why I can’t take my clothes off. But if your so keen to see me naked then go ahead,” he smirked.  
John rolled his eyes and shook his head furiously.  
“I am going nowhere near you, you psycho!”  
“Well that would be rather unfortunate seeing as you’re the only one that can help me right now.”  
“Me help you? Are you insane? Go to a fucking hospital!”  
Despite the pain he was in, Moriarty burst out laughing to the point where tears started to well in his eyes. He gestured between Sherlock and John ecstatically.   
“Now I really see why you keep him around Sherlock, he’s hilarious! How can someone be so stupid!”  
Sherlock frowned at him. “That’s enough Jim.”  
Moriarty shook his head incredulously before returning his attention to John.   
“I can’t go to a hospital because I am the most wanted man in the world you moron!”  
Even John had to admit he had been stupid. That much was obvious.  
“That may be but I’m still not helping you.”  
Moriarty turned to Sherlock.  
“Can you tell your idiot flat mate to buck his ideas up please.”  
“You know the more you make fun of him the less likely he is to help you right?”  
Moriarty grinned childishly. “Yes, but it’s so entertaining!” But at a look from Sherlock, he tried to control his amusement. “Fine! I’m sorry Jonny,” he said in mock remorse.   
When John said nothing Sherlock butt in.  
“John, just help him please? I need him alive.”  
John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious? After all he’s done, you want me to help him?”  
“It’s complicated okay? Just help him and I’ll explain?”  
Finally John sighed defeated and make his way towards the shower to address his enemy.  
“Right you piece of shit, if I’m to help you, you do everything I say okay?”  
Moriarty nodded, obviously bored at John’s attempt for control. John huffed and opened the steamy shower door to look at him properly. He really was in a bad way. He already had a black eye forming and had cuts everywhere. His arm was hanging limply by his side, and even though he was trying to remain dominant, it was obvious he was in a lot of pain. John tried to dismiss who the man was and went into doctor mode.  
“Right, Sherlock, get him carefully out of the shower. I need to get your clothes off if I’m to examine you properly. I’ll go get my medical kit.”  
He stormed out of the room, and left them to it. They stared at each other momentarily, each assessing the other before Moriarty spoke jestingly.  
“So. When are we going to tell him this won’t be the first time you’ve seen me naked?”


	8. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Sherlock tell John that his obsession with Moriarty isn't just mental, but physical?

Sherlock made his way over to the shower cautiously, still keeping eye contact with the criminal who was staring at him almost lustfully. Sherlock ignored the shiver that crept up his spine and lifted up a hand to turn the shower off. Moriarty now sat in a puddle of blood-drenched water, his wet hair smooth against his bruised face and his soaked clothes sticking to his body, perfectly outlining his toned muscles. The detective tried to stay as emotionally detached as he could from the situation, but he was struggling to rid himself of the feelings that came bubbling up at seeing his criminal again. Things had been simpler when they had chosen to stay away from each other after the fall, but now he was back, Sherlock knew their plan had arisen from it’s hibernation and that he would soon have a terrible decision to make. It had to be John or Jim. John… Jim… Just the sheer idea of making that kind of decision, especially since he had just made peace with John, made his brain hurt. But for now, he needed to focus on one thing at a time; right now he needed to get Moriarty out the shower and undressed. He kneeled down in front of him, still cautious. Moriarty’s personality was so changeable, so after 2 years, it was very reasonable to be uncertain of how the criminal would react to his close proximity. Though, thankfully his demeanor towards the detective appeared not to have changed. Sherlock immediately noticed Jim’s eyes dilating when he came close and by the expression on the criminal’s face, his must have too. Moriarty licked his lips seductively and Sherlock felt the muscles in his groin clench deliciously. 

“Stop it,” he said quietly, in barely a whisper.

“What?” Jim replied coyly, enjoying the effect he was already having on Sherlock. 

“You know what.”

“Oh come on darling it’s been two years. Two horrifically boring years without you. You can’t blame me for being…me about it.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and smirked. “How can you be in that much pain and still want to have sex with me?”

Moriarty almost laughed out loud. He leaned in as far as he could without hurting himself and whispered in Sherlock’s ear. 

“Because you’re irresistible darling. And the way you’re looking at me is making me want to take you right here, right now, no fucks given to my current situation.”

Sherlock felt his breath hitch as his words. He had almost forgotten in the time they had spent apart how much Moriarty’s words could affect him. But one look at the criminal’s sudden grimace brought his mind back to his task at hand. He looked into Jim’s eyes deeply, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but he knew that if he did they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves, and right now, he needed his help. 

“Trust me,” he said, “The feeling is most certainly mutual. But I however actually care about your current situation, so let’s get you out the shower. The quicker we can get this done, the quicker we can get back to…to where we left off.”

The promise in his words made Moriarty nod in agreement, with not even a word suggesting otherwise. This stroked Sherlock as odd; Moriarty must be seriously in a lot of pain to just agree to a plan he hadn’t come up with. As carefully as he could he wrapped his arms around Moriarty’s waist and helped him stand up. Gingerly, Jim stepped out of the shower, his weight being held by Sherlock almost completely. Though he would rather die than admit it, he was completely exhausted from his ordeal. Sherlock leant him up against the towel rail and peeled his soaking wet suit jacket off. The few patches of his white shirt that weren’t bloodstained had gone completely see-through and it took Sherlock a lot of effort not to just stand there and stare at his gorgeous figure. He started to undo each button, the proximity and light caresses of his hands made both their breathing a little heavier. Careful not to move Jim’s arm, Sherlock slowly stripped the criminal of his shirt and after chucking it in the corner, his hands moved to his trousers. At this, Moriarty emitted a deep but quiet moan, staring Sherlock intensely in the eyes. Sherlock bit his lip to stop retaliation. 

“I told you to stop it.”

“You don’t want me to really though. You love it,” Moriarty replied jestingly, licking his lips again. Sherlock undid the zip and moved his hands into the waistband and around to his hips, deciding not to argue with what was blatantly true. He knelt down to the ground as he pulled down Jim’s trousers and the criminal looked down on him, his eyes full of lust.

“God I wish you were on your knees under different circumstances right now…” he whispered, almost to himself. Sherlock chuckled.

“Patience Moriarty.”

The criminal eyed him slyly as he stepped out of his trousers and let Sherlock fling them into the pile of clothes. Sherlock got back to his feet and looked over the man who was now standing in just his boxers. Two years of pent up frustration at the lack of communication with Moriarty suddenly welled to the surface and he had an overwhelming desire to push him against the wall and kiss him all over. Both of them started to breath heavily, locked in eye contact, but just as Sherlock was about to act on his impulse, the door creaked open and John reappeared. Sherlock breathed out long and slow, trying to recover himself and stepped away to give John some space. Moriarty looked at him shrewdly but decided not to protest; he really needed seeing to.   
John stood still in the doorway for a second, still on the fence about his decision to help, especially as the man he hated most was now standing almost naked in front of him. But turning his attention to Moriarty’s now uncovered torso showed just how much damage he had managed to inflict on himself, and the doctor in him made him step forwards to give his reluctant aid. Sherlock could tell that his nonchalance towards the criminal was making John uneasy, especially the way Moriarty kept undressing him with his eyes, so he thought it best if he left the room for a moment. He closed the bathroom door behind him and leant against the wall, letting out a big sigh. 

He had long thought of how they would see each other again, but it had turned out far from what he had expected, and the way his body seemed to react to Moriarty revived the conflicted feelings within him. He had forgotten how much of an impact the criminal made on him, mentally and physically. He decided to go to the kitchen and make some tea, wondering about what the hell they would talk about after two years apart.

It was almost 20 minutes before the men emerged from the bathroom, John striding out looking less than pleased, and Moriarty limping slowly behind him. He may have been in pain, but his face showed none of it. His usual, arrogant smirk was plastered back on his face as he watched John sit down heavily on his chair in a huff. Sherlock regained his anxiety at the sight of John’s mood. Telling him what had really happened between them on the roof that day was going to be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do. Even the idea of admitting to John that he was attracted to Moriarty made his skin crawl. He looked over to the criminal in hesitance, waiting for someone to speak first. When nobody did, he motioned for Jim to sit in his chair and made his way over to the window behind it. Moriarty winced slightly as he sat down, but his usual smirk returned once he had glanced at John’s face. After a beat, John was the first to break the silence, unable to bear the tension any longer.

“So, is one of you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

His voice was deathly quiet, and it made Sherlock’s anxiety rocket. Moriarty however, seemed, if anything, relaxed. Sherlock suddenly noticed the criminal’s almost drowsy state.

“John, what have you done to him?”

John returned his incredulous look, almost angry. 

“I’ve given him some pain killers, is that alright?” he replied sarcastically.

Sherlock ignored his retort, kneeled down in front of Jim and waved his hand in front of his face. Moriarty giggled at the gesture and stuck his tongue out.

“John, just how much did you give him?”

“Enough.”

The way in which John replied set Sherlock’s teeth on edge.

“John I told you I need him to be okay!”

“He’ll be fine, Jesus Sherlock! I just couldn’t stand that smirk of his so I doped him up a bit! I can’t stand how cocky he is!” John crossed his arms and stared angrily out the window, furious at Sherlock’s sudden attachment to the criminal. Before Sherlock could reply, Moriarty reached out and pulled Sherlock up onto the armrest of the chair. He looked down at the criminal, confused for a moment, but blamed his behaviour on the amount of drugs he had been given. John rolled his eyes and pretended not to notice their proximity.

“So, I repeat. Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Well it’s quite simple Johnny boy!” slurred Jim, as he started to run his hand slowly up Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock managed to quickly stop him before he got to his crotch, laying his hand over the oddly affectionate criminal’s. The act went far from unnoticed by John. His eyebrows rose in disbelief and he clamped his hands behind his head in exasperation. 

“You, and him-” Was all he could manage.

“It’s not that simple John,” Sherlock butt in quickly. 

“Then do explain Sherlock, because my patience is starting to wear extremely thin!”

Sherlock took a deep breath and began.

“After the trial, we quickly realized that we had become obsessed with each other, to the point that one could not live without the other. I have spent my whole life in boredom, trying to find distractions to stimulate my overactive mind, and apart from my brother, Moriarty has been the only person to succeed in doing so. The same applies to him. If we continued with our game, one would die whilst the other lived and we realized we couldn’t live without each other now we had experienced what is was like to be around each other. So up on the roof, we decided, either we had to either die together, or live together. And we chose the latter.”

He paused for a moment, noticing the tension growing in John’s shoulders.

“There’s more to it than that Sherlock.”

“Err… yeah,” Sherlock continued, his anxiety peaking. “Our obsession got a bit out of control, and we kind of… ummm…”

“You slept with him didn’t you.” John’s voice had returned to the deathly whisper, and Sherlock could see his anger mounting. Before he could answer, John lunged and swung a fist at Moriarty, his patience finally snapping. Without even thinking, Sherlock jumped in front of the criminal and caught John’s fist before it collided with Jim’s face. He pushed the doctor back with such force they both fell to the ground. Moriarty remained completely unfazed by sudden events and giggled at them both on the floor. John looked like he was about to cry, as he looked straight into Sherlock’s eyes. 

“What have you done Sherlock?”

The detective took a deep breath in before answering.

“I’ve made a deal with the devil.”


	9. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only has Sherlock's confession surprised John, but what he's about to reveal will shock them all to their cores.

It took John a long time to digest Sherlock’s words. 

“What kind of deal Sherlock?” He almost regretted asking, since he knew the answer couldn’t be anything but horrifying. Sherlock slowly got to his feet and offered John his hand, which the doctor deliberately ignored. He got up and stood in front of Sherlock, arms crossed and tapping his foot. Sherlock tried his hardest not to cower at the sudden pressure that had been placed on him. Behind him, Moriarty was shifting, the painkillers already wearing off slightly; Sherlock had observed early on that there was no doubt he had a high tolerance for drugs. Jim kicked him gently on the leg.

“Tell him Sherly, or he’ll probably punch you,” the criminal smirked, the foot he had kicked with now stroking gently up and down Sherlock’s lower leg. Sherlock turned to face him.

“Jim I think he’s going to punch me anyway, no matter what I say.”

“I am right here you know!”

Both turned back to face John, Sherlock apologetic whilst Moriarty was his usual smug self.

“John I’m so sorry…” Sherlock began.

“What Sherlock, what horrific thing have you agreed to?”

“I’m going to him John. I can’t go back to how things were, just sitting around waiting until he created an elaborate crime for me to solve. I just can’t. Don’t you see how much it’s torture for me? I need him John, I need him to cure my boredom…our boredom.”

John stared at his feet incredulously. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t…would he? It felt like an eternity for Sherlock, waiting for John to respond, but the doctor did nothing but stand there, looking like the world had collapsed beneath his feet. Words had completely escaped him. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but John put his hand up to stop him. He took a deep breath in and lifted his head to look Sherlock dead in the eyes. The look made Sherlock’s heart stop. 

“You’re not him Sherlock and you never will be. You’re a good man, don’t let him take that away from you.”

“This is my decision John, not his. He suggested it, and I said… yes.”

“Why Sherlock? I don’t understand. No amount of boredom in the world could cause you to do this. Surely there has to be more of a reason than boredom?” But even as John said the words, the realization dawned on him with a sickening crunch, like a brick had been thrown at his head. “Oh Jesus Sherlock…you love him?”

There was complete silence for a minute before Sherlock spoke.

“Yes.”

At this, both John and Moriarty stared at him in complete shock. John collapsed onto his chair, his head in his hands, whilst Jim stayed stock-still, for the first time in his life completely nonplussed. Slowly the criminal stood up, flexing his still painful but now fixed shoulder and faced Sherlock his expression changing to one of smugness again. He nodded at Sherlock decisively who returned the gesture. This time John addressed Moriarty, so dumbfounded at his flat mate’s apparent sudden insanity that the only person he could turn to for some clue was the criminal himself.

“So you’re fine, you’re actually okay with this?” he asked angrily.

“Well my darling, what’s not to love?” he laughed, gesturing to himself with his eyebrows raised quizzically. John’s mouth dropped open, looking around him for some sort of reassurance but found none. The criminal was obviously manipulating Sherlock into this; Sherlock would never do anything like this… at least, he had always thought that. Well if he couldn’t convince Sherlock he was acting crazy, maybe the British government could.

“You step away from him right now. You leave him now Sherlock. No more of this. If you take one more step towards Jim Moriarty I swear I will call Mycroft!”

“Silly boy, thinks your brother can do something, ha!” laughed Moriarty, deliberately taking a step closer to Sherlock and gently brushing his hand up his side. Despite John, Sherlock leaned into the touch, desperate for contact with the criminal. “You see Johnny boy, there is nothing you can do. He got a taste of what I could offer him up on that roof and now dear Sherlock has come to the dark side. And he’s enjoying it…”

Watching them both interact together like that was making John feel violently ill. At last he could take no more of it. He pointed at the door and shouted. “Leave now! Go! I can’t bear this, GO!”

Moriarty raised his eyebrows, pretending to be offended, but it didn’t last long. His self-righteous grin returned as he sauntered to the bathroom to grab his clothes. John turned his back on Sherlock and headed for the kitchen to grab some whiskey. Instead of pouring it into a glass, he opened the bottle and took a large swig, followed by another.

“John…” Sherlock tried, going over to him and holding his hand out pathetically. “John I’m sorry, I really am…”

“No Sherlock. It’s me that’s sorry. I should’ve seen this earlier. I should’ve known. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist each other much longer, everyone could see how attracted you were to each other. It was only a matter of time. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything John, anything.”

“Remember who you are. And when you do, come back. Come back to me.”

Before Sherlock could reply, John and the bottle disappeared out the front door. Seconds later Moriarty reappeared from the bathroom, his trousers now on but his shirt was unbuttoned, the material fluttering around his body. He stared curiously around the room before noticing Sherlock leaning against the kitchen table, still staring after John.

“He went in the end then?” he asked, bored already.

“We should leave Jim. I can’t…”

“I know,” the criminal interrupted, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and leaning their foreheads together. “I know.”


End file.
